Boomer (Star Watch Book 3)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Once she felt they were versed well enough in the conceptual side of things, putting the information into actual practice came next—controlling the suit’s functionality. Within the next hour, Drom and Rogna were phase-shifting both in and out of the Stellar. One time Rogna phase-shifted too close to Drom, and he was catapulted across the cabin—up against the opposite bulkhead. It was a lesson well learned, and Boomer was glad Rogna could recognize the importance of remaining aware of her surroundings.

  “We know how to use the suits … at least the basics. So can I get out there now and beat that course?” Drom asked.

  The truth was, Boomer had no idea how to beat it. She saw how it had nearly killed Drom. It was incredibly dangerous. There didn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to how it worked. But at least he’d have a SuitPac device on him if he ran into trouble. She gave him a tentative nod.

  Chapter 43

  “You want me to get rid of those viewing droids?” Leon asked, as they watched three descend from above and disperse over the obstacle course.

  “No. I have a good idea who’s watching us. Better they view us on camera than actually being here,” Boomer said.

  Knowing now that the nearby hive was dangerous and inhabited, they found the best vantage point possible to watch Drom compete. Leon and Hanna were standing, while Gain, Rogna and Boomer sat, their legs hanging over one of the Stellar’s wings.

  Drom, upon returning to the starting point of the second course obstacle, began an exercise routine to stretch his legs and arms. He had removed his Shadick and was wearing some kind of skimpy loincloth. She watched as he lunged—one leg stretching forward—his large thigh muscles tensing. He switched legs, repeating the same movement, then stood, reaching his arms over his head, and bent at the waist. His well-defined six-pack rippled beneath his flawless light-blue skin.

  “Should I wipe the drool off your chin for you?” Rogna asked.

  Boomer scowled at her, then turned back to watch Drom as he leaned down and picked up his enhancement shield and secured it to his arm. He next attached the small metallic SuitPac device to his loincloth. He looked up and gave those watching a smile. Finally, he stepped out onto the large flat rock. If their earlier discussion had been correct, the obstacle would somehow register his weight. He needed to be ready. On his second step out, a spearheaded shaft rocketed up from the far left corner of the rock. Startled, Drom froze. Moving slowly, he bent his legs and, with his hands out to the side, surveyed his surroundings—ready for action.

  Startled, everyone jumped when the next shaft shot up beside him. But Drom was ready for it. He grabbed the shaft firmly in his tightly clenched fist.

  Boomer watched as the spear jerked in his fist—trying to pull back into the hole it had emerged from. But he held fast onto the shaft, keeping it extended out. A second shaft shot up—its point piercing his upper thigh with a glancing strike. He yelped but was still able to use his enhancement shield to raise his body up and out—parallel to the rock. He quickly wrapped his leg around the second spear shaft, holding it steady in the crook of his knee, while keeping his body elevated with his shield.

  Boomer made a face and Rogna said, “This is ridiculous, he’s going to get himself killed.” No one disagreed with her. Another shaft shot up, near Drom’s head, and he quickly released his grip on the first shaft and grabbed for it. Surprisingly, the first shaft didn’t recede but remained extended.

  Almost in unison, those perched on the wing said, “Ahh,” comprehending now the young Blues’ intentions.

  Another spear shot up and Drom tried to grab it before it could recede. But, unable to reach it in time, it disappeared back into its hole. Nearly falling, he kicked in additional distortion waves and his body rose back up—seeming to defy gravity. The next shaft shot up, directly behind him, and he flipped in mid-air to grab it—managing to get a firm hold on it with one hand. Rogna clapped and cheered.

  It was slow going. Not every attempt to catch a spear was successful, but in time, most of the spear shafts were locked into extended-out positions. Drom soon became proficient determining where the next shaft would shoot out. Even before one appeared, he’d have a hand out—ready to grab it.

  All eyes went to the last open hole, on the opposite side of the obstacle. Drom, looking exhausted, still bleeding from the wound on his thigh, quickly maneuvered around between the extended shafts. He propped himself up—placing his feet on one shaft as his hand firmly gripped another one above his head. He used the same maneuver over and over again.

  Boomer puffed her cheeks and blew out in amazement. It looked as if he’d practiced that crazy, sideways-walking movement for months—like it was second nature to him. He arrived too late to catch the last shaft, but held steady nevertheless—his hand out ready. When it finally clanged up into position, Drom grabbed for it and held on. Ten seconds later, all the spear shafts shook, then descended in unison—disappearing into their respective holes. Drom gratefully fell atop the spear-free rock, totally spent. He’d beaten the obstacle.

  Boomer’s respect for Drom’s capabilities was already high, but now she was blown away. She wanted to phase-shift down to him—hell, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him.

  He was on his feet now and moving toward the next reset wheel. Boomer phase-shifted onto an open area, between the second and third obstacles, and disengaged her combat suit. Drom abruptly turned—a broad smile on his face—and lifted Boomer up off her feet. He kissed her squarely on the mouth. With his hands firmly on her waist, he held her out and said, “I told you I could do it!” He kissed her again and put her down. He turned, punching the air and excitedly yelling something unintelligible, and continued toward the reset wheel.

  Boomer—frozen where she stood—didn’t know how to react. She’d never been kissed before. Perhaps a first kiss was an insignificant moment for some people … like Mollie … but it wasn’t for her. She tried to wipe the silly grin off her face. No way was she going to turn around, and let Rogna see her befuddled delight.

  She cleared her throat, and said, “You did pretty good.”

  Halfway through turning the big metal wheel, he asked her, “The obstacle or the kiss?”

  “Ha ha …”

  Hidden workings below them clanged into place as the course reset, poised for the third and final challenge.

  Loud sounds came of heavy rocks scraping and Boomer moved into position at the next obstacle as Drom joined her. Together, they watched as two automobile-sized rocks separated, leaving an expanded opening that seemed black and bottomless.

  “Smell that?” Drom asked.

  She nodded with a questioning expression. “What is it?”

  “They make a very distinctive odor. Harpaign has the same … creatures. Only saw one once, fleetingly.”

  “What? What kind of creature?”

  Drom pursed his lips and nodded. “It makes sense. From what I’ve heard, they can live a thousand years. Longer, even.” He looked away from the black void. “I guess it’s an insect … of sorts. They’re simply referred to as rock burrowers. Their saliva is really putrid stuff. Like an acid, they spray the shit and can burrow right into rocks. As you can imagine, the things are dangerous, but if left alone, they keep to themselves. Oh—one more thing: You never … ever … go near their nests. They protect their young. Become over-the-top vicious.”

  “Are they like those lobster-bees … that size?”

  “No, they’re bigger. Much bigger. Listen, you need to stay away from them. One of those things spits on you and you’re instantly a puff of pink vapor.”

  “So what do I do now? Just jump down in there?” Boomer asked, dropping to one knee and peering into the darkness below.

  Drom knelt by her side and she could feel his bare skin against her arm. Their faces turned toward each other and this time Boomer kissed him. His lips were salty and his breath was warm and sweet. She opened her eyes and saw him staring back at her. She put a hand on his chest and gently pus
hed him away. “Oh no … I need to keep a clear head. You need to get out of here. Practice your phase-shifting and go join the others in the Stellar. I’ll be right there.”

  He gave her a quick smile. After fiddling with his SuitPac device, he initiated his combat suit. She heard him say, “See you soon,” before phase-shifting away.

  Boomer brought her attention back to the awaiting third obstacle. A viewing droid lowered itself to within arm’s length, holding steady in front of her. She smiled at it and flipped it the bird. The droid hesitated a moment before, surprisingly, descending down into the open void. Whoever was watching wanted a front-row seat to this next challenge. She leaned in closer, seeing the outline of a roughly chiseled-out staircase. It looked similar to the stairway on the second challenge, back on Clorvious Noles. Down there, somewhere below, Boomer was certain she’d find the next won effigy. And, if she were to hazard a guess, it was also the nesting place for God only knew how many rock burrowers.

  She stood, initiated her own combat suit, and flashed back to the Stellar.

  Chapter 44

  General Brian Reynolds moved about the captain’s quarters of the Taurus, one of eleven Master Class Caldurian technology warships, which—along with the Parcical, and several smaller support vessels—comprised Star Watch fleet.

  Brian padded down the pitch-black passageway, wiping signs of sleep from his eyes. He raised his hands out in front of him—still not completely familiar with the quarters’ layout. He’d temporarily displaced Captain Logenes for this impromptu stay on board the Taurus. He shuffled into the equally dark kitchenette and came to an abrupt standstill. Something or someone moved, six or seven feet ahead. He tried to hush his own breathing, knowing whatever it might be was there, lurking in the darkness.

  “Good morning, General Reynolds …”

  Hearing the mechanical voice, he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Lights! Put the fucking lights on!” he yelled at the ship’s ever-present, listening, AI. Placing a palm over his chest, he felt fairly certain he was near to having a heart attack. The lights came on and Dewdrop continued doing what it was doing. The droid picked up the steaming hot mug of coffee and held it out to Brian.

  “Your coffee, sir; a blend of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe … as specified. Black … no sugar … no cream.”

  Brian continued staring at the hovering droid. He’d forgotten the damn thing was on board—that he’d requisitioned it out from long-term storage. It was Boomer’s droid. Put away until she would, someday, return from her training and reclaim it.

  Brian stared at the sleek, high-tech droid, with its pyramid-shaped torso and small triangular head. It had seemed appropriate to requisition this particular droid—make it his own personal valet—since they’d taken the Hopper from him: A reptilian beast of unquestioning loyalty and a substantial friend of his, of sorts. That foul-smelling rhino-warrior killed the Hopper; but, ultimately, it was Brian’s brother, Jason, who was responsible, as he was for many other direct, and indirect, aspersions over the years. But all that was about to change—was changing. Brian was now the U.S. fleet Omni. His brother’s constant gallivanting off to the far reaches of the galaxy made it easy for Brian to subtly place doubt on his brother’s commitment to a job of such significance. No one ever questioned Jason’s earlier contributions. Under his and their father’s command, the Craing had been defeated and both the Alliance and Earth saved. But that was then, and this was now. The U.S. fleet was larger now and required constant supervision. It was not a part-time position.

  Brian had made it a point to stick up for Jason, convincingly act the part of a loyal brother. But he also placed just enough doubt in the minds of the other officers, namely Admiral Stark, as well as the Joint Chiefs and the newly elected president. It had taken him years, but it was all worth it now. Brian, personally, did not wish to harm his brother. That would come from Jason’s own doing—depending on his actions over the next few days or even hours. As far as that miscreant second daughter, Boomer—that abomination from a distortion in time—she would need to die. That was a condition Lord Zintar Shakrim would not budge from. So be it.

  Brian took the large mug of coffee from Dewdrop and impatiently waved the droid away. He made his way to the ready room and took a seat at the desk. As he sipped the hot brew, he watched as an icon flashed within the suspended 3D display. Taking another sip, he felt the warm liquid’s high caffeine content begin ridding the morning fog from his mind. He knew Zintar was impatiently waiting for him to take his communiqué. Screw him … he could wait.

  Eventually, he set down the coffee mug and touched the blinking icon with a fingertip. Lord Zintar Shakrim’s face filled the virtual screen.

  “Lord Shakrim, how good it is to see you this fine morning.”

  Zintar looked annoyed and made no attempt to hide it. “So this is the new normal? Missing scheduled video-com meetings? That does not bode well for our newly formed union.”

  “I apologize, Zintar. But let’s proceed … shall we? I’m sure you are as busy as I am, having so much to do.”

  Brian saw Zintar flinch at the casual use of his name, without proper inclusion of Lord, his full title preceding it.

  “I see you have entered the Dacci System, General.”

  “Yes, the last of my Star Watch fleet arrived through an interchange wormhole several hours ago. We are now within the Dacci system,” Brian said, taking a long sip of coffee.

  “And what of our new fleet of warships, Zintar?” Brian purposely used the term our, referring to the new Sahhrain fleet. Few within the Alliance knew about their highly secret joint venture; that trillions of dollars had been diverted from the coffers of the U.S. fleet, Earth’s holdings, as well as funds controlled by the Alliance’s general council. Brian had also taken it upon himself to sell off certain technologies and warehouse items held within some of the Caldurian ships. That action alone generated close to one trillion dollars. It hadn’t been difficult for him to garner support amongst important power brokers—several key admirals, the Joint Chiefs, the President of the United States, and numerous Allied heads of state. Who had easily become convinced that a level of subterfuge was necessary to ensure rapid headway—the construction of thousands of next-generation warships and a military alliance—within the Dacci system. The biggest roadblock would have come from the other Reynoldses: Admiral Perry Reynolds, Jason Reynolds, and Ex-United States President Nan Reynolds. None would support their actions. So they were not told.

  What originally started as a Blues partnership had since migrated into one with the Sahhrain instead—determined to be a far more capable partner. They’d watch the Alliance’s proverbial ‘back’ in a quadrant of space that was becoming more and more unruly over the past few years. A win-win for both collaborators. Unfortunately, now that the construction efforts were complete, the need for the Blues’ cheap labor force was no longer necessary.

  Zintar continued, “The joint fleet is on the move. As discussed, it’s been separated into three components to handle various, high-tension hot spots within the quadrant. Namely, the recent military build-up of the Craing within their planetary system; second, the continued disruption of shipping lanes by space pirates within the Corian Nez System. The third fleet component is here … nearly eight thousand warships.”

  Brian saw a now familiar cruel smile cross Zintar’s lips. He knew the discussion was heading into muddy waters. The Blues would be dealt with, but it had to be with a controlled level of force. There could be no more brazen attacks, such as what had occurred on Harpaign. The loss of civilian life there almost jeopardized everything. He did not want to provide an excuse for others’ loyalties to sway. His command would endure only as long as everything went according to plan.

  Brian held up a hand: “Hold on, Zintar, one moment; I’m being hailed.

  “Go for Omni Reynolds.”

  “Yes, Omni. You wanted to be notified as soon as we were on our final approach to StarDome.”

  “Very good,
Seaman. Bring the fleet to a full stop.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Brian brought his attention back to Lord Shakrim. “We have reached our designated rendezvous point.”

  “Yes. I watched the arrival of your small fleet on long-range sensors as we spoke.”

  “So you are already there … I mean here?” Brian asked, somewhat nervously.

  Again, the cruel smile returned.

  Another hail was coming in: “Yes … what is it, Captain Logenes?”

  Suddenly a klaxon alarm blared. “It’s a distress call coming in. Multiple missile locks, sir … hundreds of them.”

  “On us? From where?”

  “No sir … they are targeted on the StarDome. The Sahhrain fleet is targeting the StarDome.”

  Chapter 45

  Jason waited for Seaman Jeffery Gordon to answer his damn question. The comms officer had two fingers up to his ear and was listening intently. Brows bunched together—he shook his head: “Captain … Star Watch Fleet is now here, in the Dacci system.”

  “Good!”

  “Sir … Apparently StarDome has broadcasted a distress call. They’re saying an attack is imminent. Enemy warships are approaching; they’ve detected a missile lock.”

  “Missile lock … by whom?”

  “By the Sahhrain, Captain.”

  “Exactly who were you speaking to?”

  “The Minian … my brother, Michael.”

  Seaman Jeffery Gordon and Seaman Michael Gordon were indeed brothers. They were also identical twins—down to the same mole on their right cheek. It was impossible for Jason to tell them apart, even after seven years. Jeffery was stationed on the Parcical, while his twin Michael was presently comms officer on the Minian.

  Jason hadn’t quite gotten over the fact and found it most unsettling that Star Watch fleet—his fleet—his command, was now in Dacci system without his prior directive. And an imminent attack was planned on StarDome? “Put Captain Perkins on screen,” Jason said, getting to his feet. He signaled, getting Sergeant Major Gail Stone’s attention, sitting at the helm panel. “How quickly can you get us over to StarDome?”